


this magic inside (its rotting me to the core)

by PluffleCuff



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Humor, I'm Going to Hell, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 19:01:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15780156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PluffleCuff/pseuds/PluffleCuff
Summary: Set in Season 7.Bellied in the heart of belief, is sickness.





	this magic inside (its rotting me to the core)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everybody! This is just an idea I had, the central idea of this story is no way represented in this first chapter. Anyways I laughed my way through this chapter and I hope you enjoy! :) Let me know if you want to see more, or if this can be a dopey one shot. lmao.

You would think after being jostled in the middle of the night, and being dragged miles and miles with a kid. Who supposedly thinks your the father, that it would the least of your concerns that you forgot anti-nausea pills. Right?  
Right.  
Her name is Lucy. She is otherworldly from your complexion, Henry thinks. Then again as a failed author and night-time uber driver, that does leave the opportunity to be withered like a college-ruled notebook. If he squints hard enough, he could almost convince himself that her nose bridges out to same slope as his, and wonders if it’s merely because it’s always disorientated from looking in the reflection of a laptop screen. 

“Mom is going to be so excited to see you,” Lucy begins, she leans up in the seats as she thinks for a moment. “Once she recognizes you, we just have to get her to remember.”

“Yeah, remember.” Henry says he regards the book propped up in her lap, before pulling his attention back to the road. The likeliness of the Jerry Springer-esque torn away from, “You’re the father!” to Dr. Phil, “All Fairy Tales are Real!” Henry thinks grimly. What situation would he be returning this girl to?

“What does your mom do again?”

Silence.

“She’s a cop.”

“What?” He jerks the wheel accordingly, with one hand lurching as he dumps the rest of his coffee on his lap. “Shit!” He growls, torn between the attention on the road and the coffee seeping through his jeans.

“I mean, uh- she’s not a cop, but a deputy..?” Lucy cajoles, eyeing Henry as he reaches blindly in the back, grabbing a pair of underwear to pat his lap.

“A deputy? So not only am I returning a lost kid from a hundred miles away, but to a mother- who is not only a mother missing a child, but a COP missing her child. I am so getting arrested, kid.” 

“Hey, Dad?”

A strangled noise leaves his throat, at the title. What in the hell was he thinking, he was going to be more than arrested he was going to get shot the minute Lucy’s mom opens the door to a “He’s my Dad!” He ponders taping the laptop case in the back seat to his chest as a makeshift bulletproof vest. Henry briefly curses the new technology corporations going for slimmer laptops, what he wouldn’t give for the durability of a Nokia. 

“Henry?”

Still dabbing the underwear on his wet pants as he drives, “What, Lucy?” He says distantly.

There’s a brief moment of shuffling as she leans closer, over the console, “What are those?”

He looks down at the fabric in his hands, he squints through the dark to see lace. Not just lace, but red lace. A very sexy pair of women’s underwear, that Lucy has been watching him pat his pants with. Oh god, his last client of the night. Specifically a couple who got a bit hot and heavy and didn’t tip. The brief moment on clarification set on the prospect that they were not wet where he was holding on his pants.

“Oh god.” Henry hurriedly rolls down the window, before tossing them out the window.

“Was that a scarf?” Lucy asks.

He proceeds to turn up the radio, and regards the exiting sign.

15 miles to Seattle.

“Do you think Pigeons have feelings?”

“Are all of your conversation starters from Facebook posts?” Lucy questions, mildly disappointed.

“Are you even old enough to have a Facebook?” Henry shoots back, gripping at the wheel grimacing at his damp pants.

“Nope.” She replies popping the p, looking at him cheekily. 

Great, not only she is apparent kid, but also a smartass. The time between the last few miles to Seattle revealed the sun, it gave Henry clarity to Lucy’s less than satisfactory directions. Seattle revealed to much bigger than he expected, and he should of known better to rely on directions from a child who still propped her thumb and forefinger up when he asked left or right. 

“So are we getting close?” 

“Yeah, just around this next block, it’s going to be right around the corner from Vicki’s, you know we should totally go get breakfast there before we go see my mom.” Lucy rambles, sticking her face to the window.

“No way kid, we are getting you home as soon as possible, I am not taking any more bullets to the chest than I need.” Henry grimaced, “This left?”

“I think,” Lucy replied, “uh,” She held out her thumb and first finger on both hands to resemble an L. “Yes!”

A left it is then. The buildings are weathered, the neighborhood is obviously seen better days. The apartments resemble some alleyway with rocketing windows, rustic porches and a lot of dying plants in the window sills. Lucy is already beside herself, unbuckling her seat belt and jamming her fingers into the handle to prop the door open, “Lets, go!”

The trek up the stairs is the unequivalency of the 200. Instead it was 2, one which was dancing across the halls, saying hello to the neighbors. The other one? Yeah, he was tying cement blocks to his ankles and skipping the small talk. There was no days to weight, no miles to scale, merely 3 flights of stairs and he was looking at a door with no Nokia casing to shield his chest. Lucy beat him to the punch and began rapping noisily against the door. As if she wasn’t missing the entire night, and had no repercussion to care for.

There was a stumble on the other side of the door, and a quick racket of the door knob, before a disheveled woman came on the other side. “Oh my god, Lucy!” The woman crouches before hooking Lucy into her arms, “Mom!” The other woman squeezed her tighter before pulling back and regarding Henry distrustfully. 

` “Where the hell have you been- and who the hell are you?” She said lowly, pulling Lucy beside her as she eyed Henry.

Lets just click slow mo, here. By all means Henry didn’t bring his Nokia, but he wished be brought his inhaler, because even as this mysterious woman regarded him with nothing but fire in her eyes, he was starstruck.

He stuck his hand out dumbly, word vomit flowing out of his mouth, “ I am hemlah flemlah, and I love ya.”

Lucy’s facepalm could be heard from miles away.


End file.
